


Warrior of the Dark Sun

by Thatauthoryouhate



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Anal Sex, Comfort, Duelling, Face-Fucking, M/M, POV Second Person, Porn With Plot, trap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24471055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatauthoryouhate/pseuds/Thatauthoryouhate
Summary: After weeks of traveling Lordran, you finally make it to the holy city of Anor Londo. There you are tempted to pledge yourself to a new covenant, one with surprising benefits...
Relationships: Dark Sun Gwydolin/reader, Dark Sun Gwyndolin/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	Warrior of the Dark Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This sort of thing has probably been done before, but screw it. I wanted to give it a shot.

Anor Londo, city of the gods. It has been a long and challenging journey, yet here you stand triumphantly. Of course; it was not all due to your own skill, early in your adventure you were fortunate to stumble on a covenant of like-minded warriors: The Warriors of Sunlight. You offered your fair share of assistance to fellow undead in their journeys, and received help in return. You are even beginning to rival even Solaire in how gloriously incandescent you glow when aiding others. 

Deciding you have basked in the glory of the sun for long enough, you descend the stairway into a lone building. You clutch your axe tightly as you spy an armoured warrior standing by a bonfire. “Greetings friend, you are friend yes?” You ask joyously, not wishing to provoke the warrior. “Another undead are we? Feel free to rest at my bonfire.” A feminine voice answers, and your grip on your weapon laxes. “Most kind.” You respond, and make use of her offer by sitting by the bonfire. 

“So, I am not the first one here?” You ask as your estus flash begins to refill itself. “Nor the last I suspect.” She answers, evidently not one for conversation. Your estus flask full, you get to your feet. “There may be those in need of my assistance even here then.” You announce with some excitement, always willing to aid those in need. “Another one of those foolish warriors of the sun are we?” She enquires, and you nod your head. “A bucket helmed warrior was here a short-while ago, would not shut-up about the joys of jolly co-operation.” She complains, though you smirk. “What?” She demands. “You moan, but you remember.” You point out, she merely shakes her head. 

You decide to leave, lest you sour the woman's mood further. As you begin to ascend the stairs, her call stops you in your tracks. You turn to face her. “If you want to truly help your fellow undead, and are worthy. Head downwards.” She advises. You nod your head in acknowledgement, though are unsure what exactly that means. 

Besides an unexpected balancing act, you navigate the bizarre layout that is Anor Londo quite easily. A lever is the only obvious way of progressing, and thus you pull it. Once the bridge path is reformed, you chance pushing the lever even further. The staircase spins down lower still, guess the warrior by the bonfire was speaking the truth. Alas, you enter a circular room lined with statues, and a lone bonfire. By force of habit you light the bonfire and sit at it. You look around the room with hopes of finding something that sticks out. Nothing jumps out at you, and you really should get back to your journey. 

Rising up, you give your dominant arm a quick stretch to loosen it up in preparation for the next step in your adventure. A soft humming sound emits from your ring pouch, and you opt to investigate. Digging through the pouch, a ring you recovered from your brief venture into the catacombs is both glowing faintly and humming. How curious. Naturally you replace your wolf-ring with the glowing ring, if only temporarily. 

The sound of rocks moving rings from behind you, causing you to turn to face it. The largest statue in the room disappears from view, revealing a passage behind it. Re-equipping your wolf-ring determined to investigate this new route; you descend a short staircase and are left with the sight of a narrow hallway. A fogwall waits at the end. You approach the fog, and place your had upon it in preparation to enter.

“Halt! This is the tomb of the Great Lord Gwyn. Tarnished, it shall not be, by the feet of men. If thou art a true disciple of the Dark Sun, cast aside thine ire, hear the voice of mine-self, Gwyndolin, and kneel before me.” An effeminate voice warns, and you lower your hand. On closer inspection of the ground, you notice a small carpet and some unlit candles spread out. While the act is new to you, obeying seems the key method of keeping the peace here. You get to your knees upon the carpet, and await further instruction. 

“O' Disciple of the Dark Sun. Thou hast journeyed far; Hear my voice. If thou shalt swear by the Covenant, to become, A shadow of Father Gwyn and Sister Gwynevere, a blade that shall hunt the foes of our Lords; Then I shall protect thee, safeguarding thy person with the power of the Darkmoon.” Gwyndolin instructs, and you have a few questions about that. “Apologies, the warrior by the first bonfire told me you can allow me to assist my fellow undead. I was wondering how?” You enquire, earning a moment of silence for your question. You are about ready to leave, when Gwyndolin finally deigns to speak once more. “If thou joins my covenant, thou shall be granted the power to punish those who hunt thine fellow undead for sport.” She begins, and you definitely see the worthiness of that. “Thou must also avenge any transgressions made upon our holy city.” She finishes. That part is a little more vague. 

“I am already a Warrior of Sunlight, I am not sure if joining you will indeed prove more helpful than aiding my fellow warriors slay foul monsters.” You explain yourself, and earn yet another silence. It is becoming quite apparent that the goddess is not used to being asked many questions. “I see, perhaps thou can be convinced with a more personal incentive.” Gwyndolin suggests, and you press for more information. “If thou prove loyal to my Blades of the Darkmoon, I promise to reward thou with the body of a god.” she offers. 

Such an offer is indeed very tempting, imagining being on par with Lord-Gwyn in terms of raw power. “Very well lady Gwyndolin, I shall join your Blades.” You offer, feeling your connection to the Warriors of Sunlight begin to dissipate. In its stead, you feel the need to protect this city and its main guardian increase. “Very well. Now thou art a Blade of the Darkmoon. Huntheth the enemies of the Lords, by the power of the Dark Sun.” She commands of you, gifting upon you two objects. The first is a ring, silver in colour and with intricate patterns running along it. The second; an odd blue sphere that looks to have an eye gazing at you, which you pocket. “Very well, I shall return to you when I have fulfilled a portion of my oath!” You declare, leaving the fogwall and goddess alone for now. 

Back sitting at the bonfire, you examine the orb. It reminds you of the cracked red shards, used by villains to invade various worlds of the undead. At first; you are hesitant to use such an object, but relent as you acknowledge you should fulfil at least a part of your new vow. Standing up, you squeeze the orb tightly within your grasp. “Invading a world of the guilty.” You hear the words boom inside your head as your vision fades. 

Your vision returns, and you stand where you last fought a gargoyle upon the incomplete bridge. Walking towards you is a robed figure, magical staff apparent in his hands. He stops a good distance from you. “The hell are you?” He asks, clearly not thrilled at your appearance. “Ho stranger, it would seem you've committed some kind of sin.” You explain, earning a scowl from the man. “Yeah? Who hasn't?” The man challenges. You chuckle heartily. “My former companions certainly never committed an act so heinous as to earn the wrath of a god.” You explain. 

A bright blue arrow shoots over your shoulder, the man apparently done with talking. “Very well.” You state, gripping your axe in both hands. Falling back to a more primal method of fighting before you adopted the power of miracles, you sprint towards your foe. The sorcerer must be used to fighting melee fighters, as he bombards you with his magical arrows all the while. A few graze you but cause no alarming damage, and you are within striking range of your foe. 

With practised ease, you heft your axe above your head, and begin to slam it down. The man's staff vanishes, and in its place a small yet sharp dagger now rests. He thrusts, and the blade barely penetrates through your heavy armour, but it is enough for you to feel it. Ultimately it does not save your foe, momentum on your side as your axe embeds itself in the man's skull. It takes some effort; but you free your weapon a few fleshy chunks letting fly as you do. The man's body falls to the ground, precious blood flowing from where your axe just lay. 

You look away, feeling more than a little shame at your act. Still, whatever debts he owed are now paid in full, and he will no doubt shortly return to life. Your vision begins to fade, not unlike before. You calmly wait for it to return. You stand by the bonfire again, an item floating before your eyes. Naturally you take and examine it. “What kind of covenant have I pledged myself to...” You muse aloud, as the item is clearly a shrivelled up human ear. 

Several hours pass, you utilising the blue eye orb to invade many of the guilty undead. After what feels like your hundredth battle, you slump to the ground by the bonfire and allow your eyes to rest. Truly fighting men is much easier than demons, but the mental toll of the task is beginning to mount. 

“If thou need'st aid, I am willing to assist thee.” Gwyndolin's voice echoes in your mind, and you wonder if that's a thing any covenant leader can do? The statue sure never spoke to you, then again aiding your fellow undead was not nearly as taxing. Still, your troubles are caused by the lady's covenant the least she can do is attempt to alleviate them.

You force yourself to your feet, and make the brief journey to Gwyn's tomb. As before you kneel before the fogwall, and await Gwyndolin's voice. “Welcome back, my blade of the darkmoon.” She greets. “If thou wouldst offer proof of your deeds, I will grant thee succour.” She explains. After a brief moment you realise she means the ears you gathered. With some hesitation, you grab the bloated pouch that contains the grisly trophies. For a moment you worry she'll want you to offer them to her one by one, but mercifully the pouch's contents vanish before your eyes. “Very good.” she praises. Your mind is suddenly assaulted with new information, specifically a miraculous art revealed only to the most dedicated of Darkmoon knights. 

A beautiful white talisman descends seeming from the heavens, and you grab it. Just by having it your grasp you can tell it is leagues beyond the simple talisman that Petrus sold you long ago. “These are my gifts to thou, for being so faithful.” Gwyndolin explains, and you admit that the gifts do at least seem powerful. “I recall being offered the body of a god, is this what you meant?” You ask, remembering the earlier promise. 

A silence rests in the air, long enough to become uncomfortable. “I did promise such things” Gwyndolin finally acknowledges. “And thou hast slain many sinners...” she admits further, before going silent once more. “Very well, consider this my way of alleviating the weight on thine shoulders.” she finishes, and you brace yourself for whatever transformation is to take place. 

It doesn't come, instead a figure begins to emerge from the fogwall. Just an arm at first, pale and slender. Then the rest follows, revealing the slender frame of Gwyndolin herself. Most noticeably, she has no feet. Instead; several large snakes control her movements, unusual but then gods differ from men in many ways. Your mouth hangs agape, after all you never expected to meet any goddess face to face. “Thine gaze is unsettling.” she admonishes, and you dutifully look away. A chuckle from the goddess. “This is thine reward, I shall endure it.” she assures, and you look once more. It is embarrassing to admit, but your stare lingers on her small but perky bust. 

The Goddess closes the gap between you, her hands taking your own and encouraging you to stand up. You do so, towering over the goddess. “It is no surprise that thou hast slain so many.” She confesses, running an exploratory hand along the exposed section of your arm. You allow her to continue, finding the actions cute to say the least. Besides, it has been a while since someone has stroked your ego so thoroughly. Her hand leaves your body, and joins the other to grab her crown.

“I shall allow thou to view my true face, oh valiant blade of the darkmoon.” She decrees, lifting the crown from her head and revealing her face. The veil did a miraculous job of hiding her shoulder-length white hair. Her eyes are revealed to be a striking yellow colour, and you find yourself easily getting lost in them. A chuckle snaps you from your reverie. “My face is enough to satisfy thine needs?” She enquires, and you're not entirely certain how to respond to that.

You are not left wondering for long. “Remove thine armour, if you wish to receive my blessing.” She instructs, and you are frozen for a moment. A narrowing of her eyes and you obey, removing your armour piece by piece. You now stand in front of the goddess in nothing but your waist-cloth. You're fairly certain this constitutes blasphemy on some level, then again it is only at her request. 

Her hands once more grab at you, this time running along your toned chest. Noticeably she licks her lips as she traces over a nipple. “My lady, not to rush things, but how will this grant me the body of a god?” You ask, a hint of impatience slipping through to your tone. Her movements stop, and she tilts her head in an undeniably cute way. “My blade, I fear thou hast mistaken mine words.” She begins, and you raise a questioning brow.

“The body I meant in mine offer, was my own.” She reveals in a sultry manner. It takes a moment for the comment to hit home. “T-then my body is not to ascend to a god-like form?” You ask. “I am sorry my blade, but mine reward will still be satisfying for us both I know it.” She answers, taking her chance to plant a light peck on your chest. A stirring in your loins tells you the change of circumstances are not as dire as you first thought.

“Of course, thou art free to reject mine reward.” She offers. Quickly deciding you have already sacrificed a great deal regarding the burden laid upon you by the covenant, it would be folly not to be rewarded for such efforts. You wrap your arms around the waist of the goddess, and hold her tightly against you, earning a surprised yelp. “If you will allow me the privilege, I would relish the opportunity to make a woman of you.” You all but whisper. “That would be quite the feat.” She admits, and you loosen your grip on her. 

She backs away a step and smiles up at you. “Very well, then let us mince no more words.” She states, dropping to her knees. Seeing the goddess on her knees only makes your throbbing member more apparent, having managed to ignore it for the most part up until now. Her hand touches the front of your waist-cloth, and she grips your obviously erect cock through the fabric.

Not wishing to lose any more time, her hand drifts upwards to grip the top of your remaining piece of clothing. With little finesse; she yanks it down, leaving you naked to the world. She takes a few moments to merely stare at your manhood, captivated by the sight of it. “Thou are certainly gifted.” She compliments with a lick of her lips. That is all the warning you receive as her tongue begins to lick your shaft. Slow precise movements, made deliberately to savour your taste. You fail to keep a moan from escaping your lips, any touch something you have lacked for some time.

The lashings of her tongue do not cease, and your knees begin to grow weak. “L-lady Gwyndolin!” You call in pleasure, prompting her to stop her ministrations. “Is mine tongue too much for thou to bare? How flattering.” She admits. “Still, I do not desire thou to spill your seed upon the floor.” She reveals, forming her mouth into an 'oh' shape. She wraps her lips around your cock and begins to suck on the tip, slowly edging more of your length into her wet and willing mouth. 

Your desire to cum however outweighs your common sense. “Forgive me my lady!” You cry, grabbing her by either side of her head. Her eyes widen in surprise at the act yet, she makes no effort to stop you. Now in control, you do that which comes naturally. You thrust your hips with all your might, forcing all of your length into the Goddess's greedy mouth. You easily reach the back of her throat, her tonsils squeezing down on your member. The tightness alone is enough to push you ever closer to the edge. 

With little care for your partner; you pull backwards, before forcing your cock back down her throat. You fuck the Goddess's throat vigorously, her gurgling every-time you squeeze between her tonsils. You barely last a minute, her tight wet throat gripping and squeezing your cock. With one final forceful thrust you begin to cum. Your seed seems endless as you flood her throat, her eagerly swallowing every new shot. You pull your cock free from your lover's mouth, a line of cum connecting her lips to your spent member. 

Gwyndolin pants heavily, recuperating from the ordeal of your brutal face-fucking. You too catch your breath, the experience testing your stamina. Gwyndolin is the first to recover, a malicious smirk spreading across her lips. “My blade...” She begins. “I know I offered thou mine comfort, but thou certainly took advantage.” She states the obvious. You stay silent, knowing full well your error. Gwyndolin rises to her feet, so to speak, and despite being much shorter than you she still manages to exude an intimidating aura. 

She allows a moment of silence, the full weight of what you actually just did sinking in. Whatever punishment she give you will likely be harsh, and well-earned. “Most fortunate for thou, I enjoy such things.” She reveals, her smirk remaining. “Then we may put the incident past us?” You dare to ask. Gwyndolin shakes her head. “Mine own desire now run rampant, it is something thou are tasked with satisfying.” She instructs you, eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Who are you to argue with such a task? And you tell her as much. Gwyndolin allows a giggle, and she slides her robes off easily. With free access to her near-nude form, you greedily examine her. She must have had padding for her chest; as the perky breasts she showed before are now flat, not that you mind. Your eyes drift downwards, over her flat stomach. A few strands of silver pubic hair poke from the top of her black silken panties, which show signs of an obvious bulge. You look back up at her face with a questioning eye. 

Her cheeks darken with an obvious blush. “I said thou would hast trouble making a woman of me.” She reminds you. How on earth were you supposed to know that's what she-he meant? “No matter thine feelings, thou are still responsible.” He speaks in a tone brokering no argument. You let out a sigh, and Gwyndolin frowns in response. “Cute is cute... May I still call you my lady?” You enquire. Gwyndolin's face lights up. “I shall allow it, mine Blade.” He agrees. There is no more need for words, bar instructing the god to remove the last article of clothing. 

He slides the silk panties down his legs, which draws your eye to the snakes they form into at the knees. It's certainly odd, but not a deal-breaker at this point. You need not have feared though, as Gwyndolin shows of his mastery of illusions. With a flick of his wrist, the snakes dissipate into thin air, being replaced by human legs to match the rest of his body. 

“Thou hast my permission to take charge once more, my Blade.” He all but whispers, and hell you expected that anyway. With some care, you wrap your arms around his effeminate waist. With some gentle guidance you lead him a few paces to the wall, and position him so he's flat against it. “My blade, this is-” He does not finish as you shush him. 

Using your hand, you line up the tip of your member with his back side, teasing him with a poke to his cheek. A huff escapes Gwyndolin's lips in protest. Your slight tease over, you part his cheeks and slide easily into his back passage. A cry of pleasure escapes the god as you inch your way inside him, his walls gripping tightly around your cock. You're as far as you can go in this position, so place a firm hand on the small of his back, encouraging him to arch forwards. He does, and you shuffle awkwardly with his movements, cock still buried in his hole.

Now only Gwyndolin's hands grip the wall, as he is bent forward. Wasting no more time you roughly impale him on your cock, hilting inside him. A slutty moan escapes his lips, giving you all the encouragement you need to continue. You grab his hips forcefully and begin to steadily thrust you cock in and out of his tight hole, grunting with every movement. The wet slapping of your cock penetrating him over and over resonating throughout the hall. 

A movement snaps your focus from the bliss of ravaging the god's hole. Gwyndolin's hand has moved to his loins, and is pumping up and down. You can't allow that, you're meant to be fulfilling his needs after all. Maintaining your rapid pace, you let go of him with your weaker hand. In one quick movement, you bat away the hand that pleasures himself. A pitiful whine of protest escapes him, which is soon replaced with pants of pleasure. You grip his cock firmly, and gladly pump away. 

The combined assault of your hand and brutal ass-fucking proves too much for him. He let's loose a high-pitched moan that you did not think him capable of, followed by him shooting several strands of his hot and sticky cum over the floor. It is unavoidable for your own hand to be covered in his seed, though you care not. You once more grip him with the sullied hand, and thrust all the harder into his depths. You grit your teeth as you announce the arrival of your own ending. “Fillest me to mine fullest.” Gwyndolin invites, and you oblige. Hilting yourself inside him; you allow your cum to fire deep inside the god, groaning in pleasure all the while. 

Your orgasm over, and lover fulfilled you exit him. You watch in awe as your cum begins to leak from his back passage, you truly must have been backed up to provide this much. Shakily; Gwyndolin rises, your cum dripping all the more freely from him. “My Blade...” He begins quietly as he turns to face you. Rather unexpectedly his arms wrap around you, and he rests his face against your torso. Unsure of what to make of it, you wrap your own arm around him. You take the opportunity to gently play with his hair with your free hand.

“My valiant Blade...” He purrs. “My lady?” You ask, despite not wanting the moment to end. “I wish for thou to stay by mine side.” Gwyndolin suddenly reveals, and for a moment you are stunned into silence. “I-I cannot my lady, it is my duty to fetch the lord-vessel and ultimately see to keeping the flame alive.” You explain once your voice returns. Gwyndolin moves his head from your chest to look up to your face, his eyes moistening at the corners. “Is that truly thine desire?” He asks, and for the first time in your adventure you feel your will wavering.

“If not me, who?” You ask, wanting desperately at that moment for an alternative. “Anyone, many undead seek the Lord-Vessel. That duty need'st not fall on you my Blade.” Gwyndolin easily answers. “But Frampt told-” You begin. “That withering snake lies, many undead venture here for the self-same purpose.” Gwyndolin interrupts. “Why?” You find yourself asking. “That is nothing I can reveal to thou, as things stand.” He answers, and you have no choice but to accept it. 

“I would like to stay with you.” You confess to the god, earning a half-smile. “But what would that mean for me?” You have to ask, it is a hefty commitment after all. “Thou would'st continue to serve as a Blade of the Darkmoon, though instead of continuing your quest thou will stay by mine side as lover and companion.” He answers, and it does not seem like the worst idea.

A long silence rests between you as you mull over the possibility. Although there is clearly something the god is not telling you. It is not much of a factor. “Very well my lady, I shall stay by your side.” You finally voice your agreement, and with surprising strength you feel his grip tighten around you. “Thou art mine now, and I am thine.” He whispers into your chest.

And thus begins your life with the Dark Sun.


End file.
